One

introducing almost all the characters that will be important in the story

 

 

 

 

One

 

 

Sigh;

I stare at the ceiling; it’s covered in mildew that reflects the rot of my soul, as I try to forget how to breathe. It’s always harder than I originally think. The body has a will to live when the soul does not. The slowly flickering light above is like my heart �" dying out gradually.

There are two bodies �" the rudimental and the complete; corresponding with the two conditions of the worm and the butterfly. What we call “death” is but the painful metamorphosis. Our present incarnation is progressive, preparatory, temporary. Our future is perfected, ultimate, immortal. The ultimate life is the full design. The Mesmeric Revelation, Edgar Allen Poe, 1849.

I blink slowly, looking through the water to count the broken tiles as the knot in my lungs grows tighter. Almost over. In the distance, a voice comes closer, closer, closer but grows progressively louder and more annoying. Ignore the individual and give in to the infinite. My eyes flutter shut, my lungs numb from fighting.

“Dorothy! Dorothy!” The beast turns on all the lights, “Dorothy, you get out of that tub right now or so help me God I will hold you under.”

I emerge from the safe haven into the dark dim reality around me. Now submerged in life my resigned lungs inhale the air like politicians inhales fraudulent money. How can people stand this… living?

“God has nothing to do with it Ethyl. You’d be doing me a favor to escape this wretched life….” I stare ahead with dull eyes into the cracked mirror examining my strange features…wet white blonde hair, pale green eyes, a stern mouth, blank face with freckles, and a straight-edged nose. “And you.” I turn examining at her dragon-featured face.

“The feeling is mutual,” her dark eyes reflect her dislike of everything good and right as she grits her teeth.

“But you know you won’t, not for the non-existent love in your black heart but because of the check you get for fostering me.”

Ethyl Burch ignores me moving across the room to the locked “medicine” cabinet that holds her “aids”. “So damn dramatic �"”

Dry humor sets in, “I could win an Oscar.” As I stand for scrawny limbs reaching out for a towel, irritation setting in.

“You have clothes on your back, food on your plate and a roof over your head and all I ask �"” She takes out of a bottle of prescription pills from the many others. before locking it back.

“Is for me to do everything.” I step onto the chipped away and water stained floor tiles. “And these clothes are stolen, the food you probably stole from a homeless shelter, and a roof that leaks and was so crappy that you didn’t even have to steal it.”

She turns suddenly, “You are the most ungrateful child! I adopted you out of the kindness of my heart and this is how you repay me!?”

“Let’s call it what it really is �" you adopted me to, not only, pay for the latest scam artist that says you have the ability to rub your vocal cords together and sing �"which you don’t�" and to pay for next fix.” Ethyl looks about ready to spit fire.

Red in the face, “Dorothy get out of this bathroom right now and go feed the others. You can finish your suicide attempt later and I’ll gladly help you.” She storms out slamming the door but I can still hear her mumbling, “Stupid child. I can too sing.”

“And for the last time, it’s Calypso.” I correct her grimacing as I reach the door. With my hand on the knob, I repeat my mantra, you’re almost done, you’re almost done. As I come from the bathroom Emily jumps in front smirking sickly. Another mantra I’m trying to commit to memory, it’s wrong to hate, it’s wrong to hate…but d****t I hate this kid with every nuance in my body. Of course, her malevolence is due to genetics �" all of which she gets from Ethyl, she couldn’t help being spawn from the Dragon Queen.

“You shouldn’t creep up on people; it’s rude, and kinda lesbian-ish that you are hanging outside the bathroom while I’m in there, naked.”

She has her mother’s ability of selective hearing, “It’s my house �" I’m not the intruder, you are.” A fact she constantly likes to remind me of. Scratch what I said before, she’s a downright b***h for a twelve year old.

“And what a crap house it is. Tell me, how’d your mother get this house in the first place since you seem to know all?” She sticks her nose in the air not bothering to look at someone as lowly as me, “Exactly, you don’t know, she called one of her bad contacts, a crap house sells-man �" the kind that sells you houses just to break into them later. Seeing as this house is a complete and utter s**t hole, he gave it to her for meer three thousand on the agreement that she won’t call him if it breaks down. So if you want to claim s**t, go right ahead.”

“Mommy says you’re the devil’s child and that I shouldn’t listen to you but that you have to listen to her. So the way I see it, you have to listen to me too.”

I walk hastily down the hallway, “Are you sure she wasn’t talking about you?” she’s right on my heels “Go away Emily, stop following me, stop bugging me, go play on the roof.” I grit my teeth.

“My house, I can do whatever I want and you can do nothing to stop me.” I stop in my tracks at her words. Thinking of the last time she made me angry �" this is nothing in comparison. I chuckle inwardly thinking how I probably made her the youngest girl that had to get a nose job out of necessity. Ethyl was not happy to spend her money either, cost me three weeks in the attic but it was worth it. Emily is nothing, this is the last year.

I breathe calmly and proceed to my room finally turning to face her in my doorway. “You keep telling yourself that Ethyl can do anything to keep me from breaking your face, again. Ethyl needs me to keep this hell-hole running and don’t you forget it.” She frowns crossing her arms, a reflection of light strikes my eyes. She notices my sight and tries to draw away but I’m faster. I catch her arm tugging her off the ground.

“Oww Dorothy you’re hurting me! Put me down!”

“Maybe you need a little pain to make my point clear.” Her struggle is as futile as a rat trying to escape the stomach of a serpent, “How many times have I told you to stay away from Beth!? You little thief!”

“You steal!” She spits angrily kicking the air.

“To live. You steal from little children like it’s a �" sport!”

“If she wanted it so bad. She would have said something.” Even in her impossible situation, three feet off the ground, arms nearly out of the socket, her smug smile crawls under my skin. I ball my fist ready to strike but the wind from my open window makes my skin calm as well as my hatred for this ghastly child. Because she was just that, a child. An impressionable child under the influence of an awful mother. You don’t go after the cubs you attack the beast itself. I loosen my grip on her allowing her to fall to the ground. I stoop to her level gazing into her frightened eyes with solemn calmness.

Swiping the bracelet as I say, “Stay away from Beth or the next time I hold you up it’ll be outside a window and you might just slip.” I stand and close the door behind me.

 

I’m never having children. My eyebrows twitch as I continue stirring the festering boiling pot of whatever Ethyl fished out of the garbage (or at least that’s what it smells like). How could anyone consider having children when they’re so loud and messy and evil? Childish screams and laugher fester in the air like a sore wound as a group of eight or ten children’s (ranging from the age five to thirteen) feet slam against the ground. Each one like a little check for Ethyl to cash in.

When a plate crashes to the ground, I pivot around, “Sit down and shut-up.” I force through tight lips. The screams only get louder.

“Yeah right! Why should we listen to you Witch?” Someone in the mass yells.

“Witch! Witch! Witch! Witch!” They follow along just like original witch hunters of the 17^th century. Someone yells ‘witch’ and they all lose their minds. I just stare at them and the chant gets quieter and quieter until they’re all silent and trembling. I slowly place the pot on the table.

“A Witch, huh?” I ask chuckling. “That’s the best your imagination can come up with? So much for the creative minds of the future. If I were a witch, you wouldn’t be here. Hell I wouldn’t be here.” I slop the goop into the assortment of bowls. “No I’m worse than a witch. I can un-magically poison your food,” Their eyes grow wide. “Now eat!”

From utter silence to a gradual increase, the room steadily fills with noise. I’m cleaning out the ugly excuse for a pan when I hear a small whisper, “Talk.” Followed by a whimper that makes my ears perk. “Talk!” a tad louder, “Talk!” Louder still, “Talk you dummy!” A cry out makes me turn.

Dropping the pot in the sink with a thud, I see Kye pulling at Beth’s ginger pigtail. Her gray eyes water but she stares straight ahead. There’s nothing but blinding rage as I slap him on the back of the head with a restrained force that I found at the last second.

“Oww!” He lets go of her and she runs from her seat to hide behind me.

“You little snot! How many times do I have to tell you… any of you to stop picking on Beth… or I won’t feed you for a week.”

He glares, “You have to feed me or Ethyl’ll make you sleep in the attic again.” Causing me to slap him again with less restraint �" he cries out.

“Very good Kye but she never said what I had to feed you. And if you think this isn’t edible I’ll make sure it’s your own s**t you little s**t. Now apologize.” He pursues his lips and crosses his arm, so I grab him by the back of the neck and force him forward.

“Sorry Beth,” she peers around my leg at Kye gripping my leg but nods and sniffles, and even though I don’t for a second buy his sorriness I let it go, mainly because Beth doesn’t like violence, even if she won’t say as much.

“Finish your breakfast, go to your rooms, and wait for the bus.” I take Beth in my arms and head for my room. Once there, I set her down on my bed, in my drab room. The only personal item I have is a picture of Gabriella, Beth, and me at the carnival last April (I didn’t even want it but Gabby forced me). I reach below the picture into the dresser for a tissue to wipe her stained face.

“Beth, you’re six now, you have to start defending yourself against Kye and the other kids.” She looks away from me, not noticing my presence as usual. I would be upset if I weren’t so used to it. I reach in my pants pocket pulling out the opal bracelet. “And especially Emily.” Dangling it in front of her face, she blazes like a fire.

“Ahh!” a small gasp of excitement is all she says taking it from my hands.

“How could you let something that means so much to you slip into Emily’s hooved hands?” I pause hoping this time she’ll respond. “I know it’s important to you,” another pause, “You should fight for what you want.” Not even a blink.

I sit down next to her exasperated, “You know this time next year I won’t be here to protect you, I’m going to college, you’ll have to defend yourself.”

She crawls in my lap looking at my hand as she tries putting the bracelet on my wrist, “No,” I hear her whisper.

“Yes,” I argue helping her put it on then reach in my dresser for a hairbrush. She makes it a few minutes before the hyperventilating sets in and then she urgently pulls it off. There used to be a time when even laying my eyes upon the damn thing would make her break out in hives like I was going to take it from her.

Once she succeeds, she clasp it her chest waiting for her heart to calm down while I brush her hair. She trust me, I know she does, and I love Beth, like a little sister, but she never makes my job any easier. For the first few months, she used to have episodes, like wake up in the middle of the night screaming episodes. Mrs. Burch and Emily wanted to give her back; it took Mr. Burch and me to calm her down.

“This is my fault. Nearly two years here and I never took it upon myself to help you. I thought she’ll get better, she’s just scared, she’ll talk when she’s ready… but now.” I shake my head.

“No,” Beth focuses her eyes on me; they’re like large moons.

“No it’s not my fault or no I didn’t help you?”

“No,” she fiddles her soft small hands along my neckline smiling brightly.

“But you love giving me vague answers.” I finish the last pigtail.

She jumps, “Yes,” her fingers sweeps the chain that holds my locket. No and Yes being the only words she’ll speak to anyone.

“You’re insufferable. When are you going to talk to me?” Her face shuts down, unmovable silence like she had never opened her mouth. “Not that I mind. You’re a far better listener than Gabby. You remember Gabby?” I peer at her face, the corner of my mouth twitches. I pick up the picture to show her. She points at me then her and finally rest on Gabby this time smiling as she nods her head. Speaking of Gabby, “I should call her, she hates waiting around.”

“No,” she groans, grabbing fiercely at my antique necklace, no longer calm and peaceful like the ocean but tremulous and hostile like a monsoon. I’m mainly wry because it’s such an old family heirloom. It depicks a wolf-head faucet, it’s supposed to be a pocket-watch but I could never get it to open. My grandmother used to wear it and when she gave it to me, she told me never to lose it and never stop wearing it.

“Beth no, that’s not a toy,” she holds on more tightly unwilling to let go. When she begins to make that whimpering sound, like she usually does when she wants something, I give in. “Fine, just don’t lose it. It’s the only thing that I have left of my Grandmother.” I apprehensively unravel the long chain from around my neck then loops it once, twice, then thrice around hers.

I tried long ago to make her talk by not giving her what she wanted, but all that got me was ear-splitting screams and stomping about the house. Good thing Ethyl and Emily weren’t home. Needless to say I never did that again.

I move off the bed and to my dresser where my phone is going ballistic. Fourteen messages from Gabby, all of them threats. From outside, I hear Gabby going ape on the horn of her beat-up car, “That’s her �"” I pick up my bag and move towards the door. “Remember, go to school. Ethyl might actually give you back this time if you keep skipping. I can’t keep covering for you.” Turning at the door to see her, she’s grasping at the locket like a long lost treasure. Sometimes I hate it when you spaced out like that. “Fine �" whatever,” I shrug my bag on.

“Ohh-kay.” I hear her murmur. I sigh; progress.

 

Beating down the battered and falling apart steps of the house, through the overgrown grass I spot my little escape. From the battleground, I emerge upon Gabby’s little red 1967 jeep �" sputtering and jerking. I can hear Gabby cursing and shaking �" they’re having their daily dispute.

Even though she can see me, and I know she can see me from the glare upon her face, she continues to honk maddeningly on the horn her curly hair whisking her angry mousy face. “Get your scrawny little a*s in the car!”

I force the rusted door open, “Sadly I have no other choice.”

Petting the dashboard, “She didn’t mean that Sandy.”

“Sandy?” I close the door behind me, “Last week it was Marcia.”

“Yeah but my TV wanted to watch Grease and so now her name is Sandy.”

“No wonder your car refuses to work. Not only are you abusive, it’s confused about its identity.”

She opens her mouth to laugh but frowns, “Yeah leave the jokes to me.” She turns back to me, “And my car likes it rough. It’s the reason we get along.” She returns to trying to start her up. I roll my eyes looking to that house �" the wind rustled the broken window, made the wood-rotten shutters beat against the house as the overgrown grass sway.

Gabby shivers, “Actually she’s scared of your house.”

“You sure she’s not channeling you?”

“And we’re both scared of your foster mother, Ethanol, and her mini me, Evilly.” Putting her pinky to the corner of her mouth before she explodes into, “Not to mention she’s rude! She asked me if I would follow in the footsteps of my ancestors and work in the slave trade!”

“And she’d gladly sell you if were an orphan and your car to a chop-shop.”

“Which is why I try to get out of here as fast as I can.” She pauses, looking down at wrist and I follow her gaze. I didn’t even know Beth had put it back on me, “So Beth again?” Magically the car starts and we pull from the curb.

I tighten my jaw looking back to the window rapping against the decrepit house threating to destroy any semblance of normality, “Gabby…”

She talks over me, “Is she alright?” �"pause�" “Calypso!” seeing that I’m not going to answer, she results to hitting me, “I’m only concerned. The first and last time I saw her was the night you both showed up on my doorstep… with overnight bags might I add, and her arm was broken! Do you know how much you freaked out my parents, let alone me? You were livid, determined not to go to the hospital. You’re lucky my parents like me �"and are doctors�" unlike my older sister because if it would have been her who did that s**t they would have tossed you, me, and her out on the street and called the police. Then, on top of it all you had me take you guys to the carnival, as if it never happened!”

“Gabby…”

Again, over me, “Have you even thought about taking her to the hospital? Her autism can’t get better if you aren’t willing to help her.”

I snap my head in her direction, “She’s not autistic. Quit saying that.”

“Oh really, then what is she? Because she’s something. She fell down a flight of stairs and laid there �" didn’t scream, didn’t cry, just laid there with a broken arm until someone got home.”

“Look Beth is my problem. You’re forgetting we have this agreement where you don’t ask about Beth and I don’t ask about your credit card charges.”

She bites her lips and we don’t talk the rest of the drive. I can’t even look at her because she’s right. I should have taken her straight to the hospital but I was scared, still scared, that they’ll take her away. I’m being selfish. As we drive by the sky and the grass collide together, absorb into the ether and leave only red. Through it all I still see “Enjoy Salem.”

“We’re here,” she taps me on the shoulder smiling, “Come back from your drugless high.” She sings before getting out the car with wide embracing arms. Acting as if we never fought, “Awh smells like teen spirit.”

I sloth from the car pulling my hood up, “Seriously? Smells like sex-crazed hormones and bad BO,” with a grimace.

She laughs rounding the car to wrap her arm around my shoulder, “How I do love your morbid manner in the morning.” She takes an apple from her bag, “Any refreshing depressing quotes for me today?”

“Ethyl stopped me from my sixth suicide attempt…”

Interrupting, “I’d like to think it was my spirit that stopped you but okay, continue.”

“So I’m not going to use that one but I have another.”

Murmur, “Of course you do.”

“Thus that which is the most awful of evils, death, is nothing to us since when we exist there is no death, and when there is death we do not exist �" Epicurus.”

“Brova,” she claps excitedly, the apple jumps from her hands plummeting to the ground but she shrugs, “Wasn’t that good anyway. But! that was equally thought provoking and depressing. Wow, just wow. You could join �".” I shake my head cutting her off already knowing her spiel, “Or I could take you with me to Fright Fest?” My face drops.

She immediately goes to our school’s reminder board and snags down the ‘Fright Fest’ poster that has obvious wear and tear, mainly by her own hands. “You know that the Janitor is really tired of putting that back up… almost just as much as I’m tired of you trying, unsuccessfully, to talk me into it.”

She pouts, “Come on, don’t you think it’ll be cool? It’s a day before my birthday. Come on.” She holds it in front of my face where I proceed to knock it down with a heavy hand.

“Vampires. Fake. Zombies. Fake. Witches. Fake. Fairies. Fake. Werewolves. Fake. Supernatural. Super fake. You’re just throwing away money that could go to getting a real car.”

“I have proof… I saw a ghost!” she waves her hands around frantically while I stare with lame dark eyes. “Okay… so it was my Grandmother’s client’s best friend’s neighbor’s daughter who saw it but it feels like I saw it.”

Same old, same old, “Why do I even try to prove my point? You do it so well for me.” I go around her to my locker.

“I could be a witch!” she yells aloud eliciting a few awkward stares from teenagers who have nothing better to do but stare. I grit my teeth in anger; she knows I hate when she draws attention.

“You’re in the wrong Salem then.”

Always quick witted, “It’s more discreet this way.”

Sharply, “You failed chemistry, twice. I wouldn’t trust you with a potion.”

“Now that’s just rude. Maybe I failed on purpose, if I would have aced the class then the teachers, not even to mention the Witch Hunters would have known I was a witch.” Opening her locker.

“Oh so passing a class would alert hunters?” I grimace.

“And the government, don’t forget those pinheads. The government is always watching for signs that my kind has returned �"they always think we can solve their mistakes. We do magic, not miracles. �" How would it look to you if you saw my report card: D, C, C, D, C, A! in Chemistry no less. Alert! Alert! You don’t know the struggle of purposely failing my favorite class. It’s so real.” She sighs pulling out her a binder.

“Oh yeah and that’s why you had doodles that said: I hate Chemistry in bubble letters and a stick figure of you choking Mr. Altman.”

“My cover, of course. You’re only as good as your lies. Plus, I had reasons to suspect that Mr. Altman was either a Witch Hunter or just a Hunter of things Supernatural and good.”

“Our 10^th grade teacher was not a �" why am I even indulging you?”

“Explain all the random scars then,” she raises her arms as if to say ‘case closed.’

“He’s a Hiker; there were pictures in his classroom of him and his late wife.”

“Photoshoped I’m sure… and he’s always staring at me like I’m threat.”

“Well you did draw bizarre pictures of strangling him on the board… and wrote under them ‘I’ll be watching you, watching me, watching you.’” I can’t help but chuckle. I attract crazy.

“He knows I’m a witch but he also knows that since my family is from New Orleans and originally hails from Barbados, I am more powerful than him… and that people would notice if I disappeared.”

“You should really drop out of clubs in general; they’re not helping your mental state. Your mind is full of strange and bizarre things.” I poke the center of her forehead.

She gasps, “Speaking of strange and bizarre things, have you seen the news?” I just stare, when was the last time the TV in the house worked? “Nevermind, two weeks ago seven men were found in an alley between clubs, Midnight Howl and Serenity… dead. And get this, those men had just been let out of prison, not enough evidence �"I say because of a shotty system�", but they went back to their old habits of raping and killing women. People are already calling it the Clemency Killings, on a count that it’s mercy to their future victims and justice on the past ones.” She smiles with a new light in her eyes, “It chills my veins just talking about it.”

“And how does that relate to strange and bizarre things? Sounds like a serial killer.”

She jumps excited, “That’s the best part! Their bodies were shredded to bits! Blood splattered everywhere!” The only strange and bizarre thing is you.

“So a psychotic serial killer?” she frowns at my reply, “Are you trying to tell me that you killed those men?”

She halfway hides her face behind the locker with a creepy look upon her face, “Maybe.”

I crack a smile, “When your brother killed your goldfish you cried for weeks and refused to bury him until your brother was brought to justice, and to you that either meant ‘A life for a life’ or ‘5 to 10 years in a state penitentiary’. Your mother settled for ice cream and a new fish.”

Outraged, “Mr. Goldsteen was murdered, I tell you, murdered!”

“You don’t have the guts to kill.” As I close my locker.

“It’s not about guts, it’s about survival.” Closes locker, “And what I was going to say before I found a more theatric way �" was no, the police think it’s a wild mountain lion or bear but I have my own theory.”

“I’m sure you do, and I’ll bet it’s supernaturally inclined… why do you put so much faith in something you can’t see?” A fight breaks out between two boys in the middle of the hallway. They thrashed each other into lockers, trashcans, and other people.

Gabby glances from them to me, “Because what I do see sucks. How can you not strive for something bigger, better, and far cooler than the human race?”

“Because living in a fantasy land with sparkling vampires and naked bald ghost isn’t going to better me. There is nothing outside the present until tomorrow. When you show me something tangible then maybe I’ll believe that life can get better.”

“Hold thy tongue! Vampires are very palpable.”

“Plausible, Gabby, is it plausible?” Finally teachers arrive on the scene, I’m sure snails would have gotten there sooner, the boys are still going at it but when the second boy gets pushed into the locker, the first takes off nearly mauling Gabriella down.

Extremely loud, “Hey! I’m walking here!” quieter, “Gosh, boys are so rude.” She loops my arm in her and continues to walk on, “But back to the initial point, since Fright Fest is a negativo the least you can do is come to this Halloween party in Seattle this weekend.”

“Washington?”

“No Missouri, duh Washington.”

“Correction, the least I can do is not go.”

She speaks over me, “It’s at Midnight Howl,” and gets very excited, “Which happens to be my cousin’s neighbor’s dog walker’s boyfriend’s uncle’s club. Everyone simply adores me and I got us in.”

“That’s a four hour drive, one. I don’t want to, two. Isn’t that where the men died, three �" so shouldn’t the club be closed?”

“No because it was in the alley they can’t say the clubs are linked to the killings and I told you they think an animal did it. We’ll just drive up Friday night, stay Saturday, and be back Sunday afternoon. And you’re going.”

“No,” dismissive and cold.

Her face fumes and she stomps from me in front of the door that leads to our classroom. “Now you’re being selfish Calypso. I love Halloween. MY birthday and every year you refuse to celebrate with me until the day after. This is our senior year and I refuse to accept it, you will be with me this year.”

“Gabby move,” I look behind me at the groaning students. “You’re causing a scene.”

“I will cause a bigger scene, if I have to. I love an audience, always have… to hell with class! You must go with me to this Halloween party.” Her eyes sparkle with realization, “Mike will be there. I know it for a fact.”

My cheeks flush slightly while the rest of my face remains dark, growing darker, “What were you expecting to accomplish by mentioning his name? Did it work?” I glare with clenched teeth.

She flashes a knowing smile, “You know you want to see him again. Mike Anderson. De-lish crumb-dish. He’s nice, sweet, hot, popular, smart, chivalrous, well-paid and let’s not forget single!” she sighs, louder. “Mike Anderson.” I slowly become unnerved, “Is that�"Is that him?” my eyes grow wide and I try to push her out of the way but she’s relentless, “Mike!” she yells waving.

“Ok, ok. I’ll go, just shut-up.” She releases the door and I shove her aside keeping my head down.

“Oh oops, must have been mistaken. It’s only Jason.” She smiles, “This is the best birthday present ever.” Twirls around with her hands behind her back, and comes to sit next to me. “No take-backsies.” I roll my eyes.

The morning announcements start, “Good morning student body. Today is Tuesday, September 30^th….” Her collective voice drowns out under the static of my anger.